ITHE POETICAL WORKS OF J \ SOUXHEY i THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF NORTH CAROLINA AT CHAPEL HILL PRESENTED BY Pamela Kixkpatxick UNIVERSITY OF N.C, AT CHAPEL HILL 00025091828 SOUTHETS JOAN OF AKC. IPallabs, If grits, anir piiior "^omxs. ROUTLEDGE'S POPULAR POETS. SHAKSPERE. MILTON. BURNS. BYRON. SCOTT. WORDSWORTH. SHELLEY. MOORE. MRS. REMANS. HOOD. LONGFELLOW, A THOUSAND AND ONE GEMS OF ENGLISH POETRY. THE INGOLDSBY LEGENDS. BAILEY'S FESTUS. SCHILLER'S PLAYS AND POEMS. WHITTIER. BRYANT. WILLIS. POPE'S HOMER. LONGFELLOW'S DANTE. LOWELL. HOLMES. Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2011 with funding from University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill http://www.archive.org/details/joanofarcballadsOOsout ^^j rM "nvi i\ I .rt^^^V^ JOAN OF AP.C. JOAN OF ARC -^^4- BALLADS, LYRICS, AND MINOR POEMS BY ROBERT SOUTHEY LONDON GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS, Limited Broadway, Ludgate Hill MANCHESTER AND NEW YORK 1894 yNivEJ^smr of north gsj^ouna AT CHAPEL MSI. DEDICATOEY SONNET TO HIS WIEE. With way-worn feet, a pilgrim woe-begone, Life's upward road I journeyed many a day, And liymning many a sad yet sootliing lay Beguiled my wandering witli tlie charms of song. Lonely my heart, and rugged was my way, Yet often plucked I, as I passed along, The wild and simple flowers of Poesy ; And as beseemed the wayward Pancy's child. Entwined each ramdom weed that pleased mine oyi Accept the wreath, Beloved ! it is wild And rudely garlanded ; yet scorn not thou The humble offering, where the sad rue weavee 'Mid gayer flowers its intermingled leaves. And I have twined the myrtle for thy brow. CONTENTS. FAG6 JOAN OF ARC ..... 1 EARLY POEMS- The Retrospect ,...,:. 141 IROMAXCE . . . ^ . - - . . 145 To Ukban » , . . 150 Tre IVrisER's Mansion „ . . . , 151 To Hymen 155 Hospitality ...:.... ...... 156 Sonnets 159 To Lycon 163 Rosamond to Henry 167 The Race of Odin 17 1 The Death of Moses 180 The Death of Mattatiiias ... ..... 185 The Triumph of Wojian 191 Poems on the Slave Tradi: • 202 Eclogues. The Convicts at Net South Wales . 210 English Eclogues ^ . . 222 BALLADS AND METRICAL PIECES. Jaspar . . 2^(> Lord William Sfil St. Michael's Chair 201 The Destruction of Jerusalem ....... 207 The Spanish Armada ^ 209 A Ballad showing how an Old Woman rode double and who rode before her 270 The Surgeon's Warning 275 Mary the Maid of the Inn , . 280 VI CONTENTS. PkQV DoNiCA 284 RUDIGEB 287 The Spirit 293 King Henry V. and the Abbot of Dreux .... 295 Don CHRisTOVAL'a Advice 297 King Charlemagne 299 A Ballad of a Young Man 30'o The Lover's Eock 304 Henry the Hermit 300 The Cross Eoads 307 The Well of St. Keyne 311 The Pious Painter 313 St. Juan Gualberto 317 The Battle of Blenheim 327 St. Romuald 329 The King of the Crocodiles 331 God's Judgment on a Bishop 333 Bishop Bbuno 33(5 The Old Man's Comforts 338 LYPJCAL AND OTHER MINOR PIECES. Youth and Age 339 The Ebb Tide 310 The Pig 341 Ode to a Pig 312 The Holly Tree . . , 314 lucretia 340 To Recovery 347 The Filbert ... - 348 The Battle of Pultowa , . 349 St. Bartholomew's Day 350 The Complaints of the Poor 351 To A Bee 353 Metrical Letter from London 353 The Victory 355 To A Spider 356 The Soldier's Fdneral 358 Elegy on a Quid , 359 CONTENTS. -vn PAGB To A FniEND IN THE CoUXTEY oCO Cool Eeflectionh 3C1 Snuff 362 To A Fbiend on his wish to Teavel 303 The Death of Wallace 361 To A Fbiekd 865 The Oak of ouk Fathers 300 Eemembbance SG7 The Rose 309 The Tbatellee's Return , 871 Autumn 373 HiSTOBY 373 Stanzas on the 1st of Dec, 1793 . 374 Stanzas on the 1st of Sept. 1794 370 Wkitten on a Sunday Moesino 377 On my own Miniature 378 The Paupeb's Funeral 379 On a Spaniel 380 On a Landscape by Poussin 881 Musings on a Scare-Crow 383 To Contemplation 38-t To Hobeor 380 To a Feiend 888 The Mobning Mist ' . 389 To the Burnie Bee 390 The Dancing Beab 391 Hymn to the Penates 393 Sappho 400 Translation of a Geeek Ode on Astronomy, by S. T, Colebidge . . , . 40-:? The Wife of Fergus 40.1 The Soldieb's Wife . . . ^ 40T The Widow 407 The Chapel Bell 403 The Race of Banquo 409 The Poet Perplext ^ 410 Lewti, or the Circassian LovE-CHA^T ...--. 41i VlU CONTEKTS. PAGE gooseberrv-pie .... 413 The Killcrop 415 The Huron's Address to the Dead 421 The Old Chickasah to his Grandson 422 The Peruvian's Dirge over the Body of his Father 423 Song of the Chickasah Widow 424 Song of the Araucans during a Thunder Storm . 42G Chimalpoca 427 Lines Written in the ICth Century . , . . 429 Parodied in the 18th Century 430 Inscription for the Apartment in Chepstow Castlf., WHERE Henry Martin, thp. Eegicide, was Im- prisoned Thirty Years 431 SONNETS 432—137 INSCRIPTIONS 438— 44C THE SONNETS AND ELEGIES OE ABEL SH iJFFLE- BOTTOJL I. Delia at Play 41'< II. To A Painter attempting Delia's Portrait . 447 III. He proves the Existence of a Soul from his Love for Delia 448 IV. The Poet expresses his feelings respecting A Portrait in Delia's Parlour 448 LOVE ELEGIES OF ABEL SHUFFLEBOTTOM. I. The Poet relates how he obtained Delia's Pocket-handkerchief 449 II. The Poet invokes the Spirits of the Ele- MENTS TO approach DeLIA. IIe DESCRIBES her SINGING 4D0 III. The Poet expatiates on the beauty of Delia's Hair 451 IV. The Poet relates how he stole a lock of Delia's Hair, and her anger 452 FUNERAL SONG for the Princess Charlotte of Wales 453 NOTES TO JOAN OF ARC ... 457 SOUTHEY. It has been well said, " that the Life of Robeut SouxnEY is a pictiire the very first sight of which elicits boundless satisfiiction ; frequent and very close inspection qualifies delight ; a last and parting look would seem to justify the early admiration." Eobert Southey was born on the 12th of August, 1774 ; through both his parents he descended from respectable families of the county of Somerset. His father was in business as a linendraper in Bristol, but though a man of the highest integrity, was unsuccessful in trade ; and the ?are of young Southey in his childhood was imdertaken by his mother's maiden aunt, Miss Tyler. Of this lady, Southey, in his Autobiography, has drawn a very speaking portrait. She appears to have had a great j^assion for theatres and actors, and as the Bristol stage was frequently honoured by visits of the great actors of the day, they became Aisitors at Miss Tyler's, and at those times her ap- pearance and manners were those of the well-bred lady ; but at other times she lived in her kitchen, and her attire wa^ literally rags. But ragged as she might be, yet lier notions of uncleanness were rigid in the extreme; a chair used by one she thought an unclean person was sent to the garden to be aired ; and on one occasion, a man who had called on business, and had the temerity to scat A 2 X SOUTIIEY. liimself in the lady's own chair, threw her into o paroxysm of wUd distress and despair ; and Southey tells us that she once buried a cup for six weeks in order to purify it from the lips of some one (no favourite, we suppose) who was considered dirty. With this oddity Southey lived till his sixth or seventh year, and to keep him from contact with dirt, he was not j^ermitted to haye ])laymates, nor to make any noise that might disturb the old lady. He had no propensity for boyish sports. However, as soon as he could read, he was furnished with the History of the Seven Champions of England, Goody Two-shoes, and much more such delectable literature for children, all which was splendidly bound in the flowered and gilt Dutch paper of former days. Trivial as this kind of reading may now appear, it laid the foundation of a love of books which grew with the child's growth and ceased not in age. As the boy accompanied his aunt before he was seven years old, he had been to the theatre more frequently than from the age of twenty till the day of his death. This fiimi- liarity with the drama of course directed his reading, so that by the time he was eight years old, he had read through Shakspeare, and Beaumont and Fletcher ; and at nine he set about a tragedy, the subject of which was the Continence of Scipio. He had in the meantime been sent to a small day-school in Bristol, and afterwards removed to another at Corstone, near Bath. So ai-dent was his pursuit of knowledge, that at thirteen he had mastered Spenser, and, through translations, Tasso and Ariosto, and become acquainted with Ovid and Homer, besides all the light literature of the day that came in his way. In 1787, when in his fourteenth year, Southey was sent to West- minster School, where he remained four years, when lie SOUTHEY. xi vas dismissed for contributing a sarcastic article on cor- poral punishment to a publication the boys had set on foot. In 1792 he returned to Bristol, having formed some most enduring friendships at Westminster: one was a Mi-. Grosveuor Bedford, and another 'Mi\ C. W. Wynn. By the latter an annuity of 160^. was for many years generously allowed Southey — in fact, until provision was made for him by the government. His father died shortly alter he had left Westminster, ruined and broken-hearted. The kindness of a maternal uncle, the Eev. INIr, Hill, supplied his father's place, and provided for entering him at Baliol College, Oxford, where he proceeded in 1793 ; it was his uncle's wish he shoidd go into the church, but Southey had no religious opinions to justify this: — he, however, was assiduous in his studies, and at first turned his attention to medicine, but the dissecting-room turned his stomach from that direction. At Easter, 1794, Cole- ridge, who had just abandoned Cambridge, came on a visit to Oxford, where his fame for extraordinary powers of conversation and his stupendous talents had preceded him. He was visited by the yomig Oxonians, more particularly those who were admirers of the French revolution, and among them the author of the Satire on corporal punisli- ment, who had gone to Oxford an honest republican. These young and ardent lovers of liberty formed a society among themselves, mutually addressing each other by the title of Citizen, and set wp a club to debate questions, meeting at each other's rooms. This Jacobinical assembly created great alarm among the heads of the university, and the more so, as the exemplary moral conduct of the members prevented notice being taken of their proceed- ings. Southey soon after abandoned his studies at tha Xll SOUTHEY. university, and joined Coleridge at Bristol. The result of this intimacy was the suggestion of a wild scheme for the regeneration of society. In conjunction with Robert Lovell,a young quaker, Eobert Allen, George Burnett, and some few others, they formed a plan — worthy of Robert Owen — to establish a pantisocratical society on the banks of the Ohio, and there in the New World establish a com- munity on a thoroughly social basis. The intended colonists were all to marry, and as Southey had become acquainted with a family of the name of Fi-icker, in which tliere were three daughters of a marriageable age, it was pro- posed that Lovell should be united to the elder, that Cole- ridge should marry Sara, and Southey Edith. The ladies were to cook and perform all household work, and the men cultivate the land, everything being in common ; but as money — that huge evil, as Southey calls it — was needed, Lovell engaged to supply it. In this poetical paradise they were to live without either kings or priests, or any of the other evils of the Old World society, and to renew tlie patriarchal or golden age. However, Lovell's death shortly afterwards put an end to this grand scheme, which died where it was born— in the heads of its concoctors. Miss Tyler, when she became acquainted with her nephew's intended man-iage and his socialist opinions, shut the door in his face, and never opened it to him again. In 1795 was published a post 8vo volume of 125 pages: "Poems ; containing The Retrospect, Odes, Sonnets, Elegies, &c. By Robert Lovell, and Robert Southey, of Baliol College, Oxford. Printed by R. Cruttwell, Bath." At the end of the preface there is a note : the signature of i/jo/t, distinguishes the pieces of R. Southey ; Moschus, JL Lovell, SOUTHEY. ^ii Southey, Coleridge, and Buruett lived together with great simplicity in Bristol, in 1795, and to obtain means for existence, they started as public lecturers, Southey on History, and Coleridge on Politics and Ethics; the lectures are said to have been well attended. Southey had two years before written Joan of Arc, an epic of considerable length, but had not means to get it printed. He however became acquainted with Joseph Cottle, a bookseller in Bristol, who, to his praise be it recorded, not only assisted Coleridge with money, but oflei^d fifty guineas for Joan of Arc, and fifty copies for the author's subscribers. Joan of Arc was pubHshed in 1796; "a work," says Mr. Hazljtt, "in which the love of liberty is inlialed like the breath of S]n-ing, mild, balmy, heaven-born— that is, full of fears, and virgin-sighs, and yearnings of affection after truth and ■^ood, gushing warm and crimsoned from the heart." Soon after the sale of the copyright of his poems, Southey's uncle, the Eev. Islx. Hill, who held the appoint- ment of a chajjlain in Portugal, arrived in England. He found his nephew with but Httle belief in revealed religion, and with political sentiments of the wildest order. Actuig the part of a father, Mr. Hill proposed a visit to Portugal, to wean him from Avhat was supposed to be an imprudent attachment; and to gratify his mother, who urged the removal, Southey consented, but on the morning of the day of his departure, he was married to Edith Fricker. rhey parted immediately after the ceremony, and the wife retired, wearing her wedding-ring attached to a ribbon round her neck. After a stay of six months in Lisbon, Southey retm-ned, and, accompanied by his wife, M-ent to London, and entered himself a student at Gray's Inn, to bedn the study of the law, by the wish of his uncle, who xiv SOUTHEY. had agreed to furnisli the required funds. After a year's torture, Southey gave up this — to him — irksome toih He had become an occasional contributor to the Monthly Magazine, and in conjunction with Charles Lamb, Hum- phrey Davy, Taylor of Norwich, and Coleridge, he pub- lished two volumes of poetry, under the title of Tlie Annual Anthology. In 1800-1 he again visited Portugal for the benefit of his health, accompanied by his wife ; and on his return at the latter end of 1801, through the interest of, we believe, Sir James Macintosh, he obtained the api)ointment of Private Secretary to the then Chancellor of the Exchequer in Ireland, with a salary of 400^. a year. On his arrival in Dublin, he not only found that in his office lie had nothing to do, but that the minister was so sensible of the fact, that he proposed that Southey should undertake the tuition of his son. This proposition Southey manfully rejected, and threw up his ajipointment a few months after. He returned to Bristol, and ere long obtained a connexion with Messrs. Longman and Pees, producing the romance of Amadis de Gaid, from a Spanish version, and his metrical romance of Thalahathe Destroyer. At this time, while struggling for himself, he learnt the forlorn condition of Mrs. Newton, sister of the unfortunate Chattel-ton, and to aid her, he, in conjunction with Mr. Cottle, undertook to i^ubllsh by subscription a complete edition of Chatterton's writings, and they were enabled by tills means to hand over 300Z. to the family. He had now settled himself at Greta, in Cumberland, where he resided to the end of his life : and here he afforded an asjdum for his wife's sister, Mrs. Lovell, and her child, who had been left without the slightest provision ; and the wife and children of Coleridge, whom he had in a waward mood SOUTIILY. XV deserted, Were saved much of the knowledge of their hardships by folding a home in the Sanctuary of Robert Southey. His life exhibits many traits of his ympathy for misfortune ; for in 1811, when William Taylor fell into distress, he offered to contribute a yearly 10^., and the same thing he did for John Morgan ; and in 1821 he directs his friend Bedford to transfer to ]\Ir. May, who had in early life rendered Southey substantial service, G251., in the 3 per cents, — his whole savings, — and wishes it was more. When mentioning these circumstances, an able writer in the leading journal of our time says, — " If biography be not utterly worthless, these illustrations of Southey's character have an inestimable value. Look at him, pen in hand, the indefatigable day labourer in his literary seclusion, with no inheritance but his vigorous intellect, no revenue but such as his well-stored mind and matchless industry can furnish, perfect in the manifold relation of husband, brother, father, friend, and by his chosen labours delighting and instructing the world, as well as ministering to the daily happiness of his needy circle, — Look, we say, and confess that heroism is here which conqueroi's might envy." To another young and ardent poet — poor Henry Kirke White, whose volume had been most unmercifully attacked in a Eeview, Southey otfered his kind assistance, and White's early death enabled him to prove his sympathy in collecting the scattered fragments, and in a memoir vindi- sated his title to genius. In fact, Southey's correspondence exhibits numerous instances of his kind-heartedne.ss to all young aspirants for literary fame. After he had fairly settled himself down amongst the mountains, he set to work for the booksellers, and what with prose and verse, the result of his labours was really XVI SOUTHEV. marvellous. In 1800, lie was at the same lime engaged in writing The History of Portugal, EsprieUci's Letters, The Chronicle of the Cid, and The Curse of Kehema. AVlien writing to Lis friend, Mr. Bedford, communicating the tasks he liad undertaken, he says, " I tell you I can't afford to do one thing at a time ; no, nor two neither ; and it's only by doing many things 1 continue to do as much ; for I cannot work long at anything without hurting myself, and I do everything by heats; then by the time I am tired of one my inclination for another is at hand." Whether his works succeeded or failed it was all the same; his courage or perseverance never deserted him. He religiously believed future generations would recognise his talents, and he continued his almost gigantic epics. In 1807 he \)YOi{\\CQ^ Specimens of tlte later English Poets, and Palmerin of England, a translation from the Por- tugiiese; and we learn that in the same year he had a proi)osal from Walter Scott to contribute to the Edinburgh Review. But Southey had some time before abandoned his democratic creed and taken up one diametrically opposite, and for the remainder of his life he became a most uncom- promising monarchist, and in his political opinions an extreme conservative. In his answer to Scott, Southey says, " To Jeffrey, as an individual, I shall ever be ready to show individual courtesy, but of Judge Jeffrey of the Edinburgh Review, I must ever think and sj^eak as of a bad pohtician, a worse moralist, and a critic, in matters of taote, equally incompetent and imjust." Scott, who was one of Southey's most sincere friends, knowing the large claims on his income, through Canning, had an opportmiity of offering Southey some appointment worth 300^. a-year, but that, as Avell as another oi a professor at one of the SOUTIIEY. Xvii iiniveisilies, was declined. Soiithey had at this time a goveruiiient pension of 160^. a-year, for literary services ; but a more certain income was ojDened to him, in the well- paid remuneration provided by the Quarterly Review, which was set on foot, chieily at his instigation. In 1813, on the death of Mr. Pye, the offer of tlie aj)- pointment of Poet Laureate Avas made to Scott, but was by him declined ; at the same time he recommended Southey as the most competent, therefore upon Southey it was conferred. For the remainder of his life the labour of Southey was incessant, and by degrees the happiness of his home was flying away. First, he loses one child, of whom he was " foolishly fond ;" then another — his daughter marries, and his "best days are over;" and at last, his wife, Editli, who had for forty years been the light of his life, was placed in a lunatic asylum. Upon this latter event, writing to hia friend, Grosvenor Bedford, he says, " God, who has visited me with this affliction, has given me strength to bear it, and will, I know, sujjport me to the end, whatever that may be. . . . Mine is a strong heart. I will not say the last week has been the most trying of my life, but I will say that the heart which could bear it can bear anything." While suffering under this trying affliction, the ofier of u baronetcy was made him by Su" Robert Peel, then First Lord of the Treasury ; and at the same time a private letter, requesting Southey to tell him (Sir E. Peel) frankly how the minister could serve him. Southey, declining the proffered distinction, replied by a clear statement of his position: Sir Robert, without loss of time, attached his name to a warnmt. adding 300^. per annum to Southey 's income. xviii souTUEY. In 1837, his beloved wife, Etlith, who had returned to her home, died in a pitiable state, after three years' ajfflic- tion. After the death of his wife he became an altered man. He says, " There is no one to partake with me the recollections of the best and happiest portion of my life ; and for that reason, were there no other, such recollections must henceforth be purely painful, except when I connect them with the prospects of futurity." To divert his mind, his friends proposed a continental journey, which took place in 1838. On the 5th of June, 1839, he was married a second time to Miss Caroline Anne Bowles, a lady long well known in the literary world, as the author of " Ellen Fitz-Arthur, and other Poems," "Chapters in Church- yards," &c. ; Southey being then in his sixty-fifth year. Sovithey never recovered the loss of his wife Edith, and his friends could see that the vigour of his faculties was evidently now gone, and his melancholy decline became rapidly jirogressive : forty-five years' incessant literary toil tiad done its work — the candle was burnt to the socket — the brain was worn out. For the last year of his life it was an utter Uank. He died on the 21st of March, 1843, and was buried in Crossthwaite churchyard, where lie his beloved Edith and some children that preceded him. We have seen that in 1806 Southey had begun his History of Portugal, and his correspondence frequently mentions the progress of this achievement; every spare moment from work of the moment was devoted to this cherished object, from which he always expected permanent profit ; he laboured at it to the last, and it was left un- finished. PREFACE. The history of Joan of Arc is one of those problems that render investigation fruitless. That she believed herself inspired, few will deny ; that she was inspired, no one will venture to assert ; and who can believe that she was her- self imposed on by Charles and Dunois? That she dis- covered the king when he disguised himself among the courtiers to deceive her, and that, as a proof of her mission, she demanded a sword from a tomb in the church of St. Catharine, are facts in which all historians agree. If this had been done by collusion, the maid must have known herself an impostor, and witli that knowledge could not have performed the enterprise she undertook. Enthusiasm, and that of no common kind, was necessary, to enable a young maiden at once to assume the profession of arms, to lead her troops to battle, to fight among the foremost, and to subdue with an inferior force an enemy then believed invincible. It is not possible that one who felt herself the puppet of a party, could have performed these things. The artifices of a court could not haA^e persuaded her that she discovered Charles in disguise; nor could they have prompted her to demand the sword which they might have hidden, without discovering the deceit. The maid, then, was not knowingly an impostor ; nor could she have been t^ie instrument of the court ; and to say that she believed herself inspired, will neither account for her singling out tlie king, or prophetically claiming the sword. XX PREFACE. After crowniug Cliai'les, slie declared that her mission was accomplished, and demanded leave to retire. Enthusiasm would not have ceased here ; and if they who imposed on hei-, could persuade her still to go with their armies, they couhl still have continued her delusion. This mysteriousness renders the story of Joan of Arc peculiarly fit for poetry. The aid of angels and devils is not necessary to raise her above mankind ; she has no gods to lackey her, and insjiire liei' with courage, and heal her wounds: the Maid of Orleans acts wholly from the workings of her own mind, from the deej^ feeling ol inspiration. The palj^able agency of siiperior powers would destroy the obscui-ity of her character, and sink hei to the mere heroine of a fau-y tale. The alterations which I have made in the history arc foviT and trifling. The death of Salisbury is placed later, and of the Talbots earlier than they occuixed. As the battle of Patay is the concluding action of the poem, I have given it all the previous solemnity of a settled en- gagement. Whatever appears miracidous is historically true ; and my authorities will be found in the notes. It is the common fault of Epic poems that we feel little interest for the heroes they celebrate. The national vanity of a Greek or a Eoman might have been gratified by the renown of Achilles or JEueas ; but to engage the unprejudiced, there must be more of human feelings than is generally to be found in the character of a warrior. From this objection the Odyssey alone may be excepted. Ulysses appears as the father and the husband, and the afi'ections are enlisted on his side. The judgment must apj^laud the well-digested plan and splendid execution of the Iliad, but the heart always bears testimony to the merit of the Odyssey; it is the poem of nature, and its personages insj^ire love rather than command admiration. The good herdsman Eumgeus is worth a thousand heroes ! PREFACE. XXI Homer is, indeed, the best of poets, for he is at once digni- fied and simple ; bnt Pope has disguised him in fop-finery, and Cowjjer has stripped him naked. Tliere are few readers who do not prefer Turnus to ^neas ; a fugitive, susiJectcd of treason, who negligently- left his wife, seduced Dido, deserted her, and then forcibly took LaWnia from her betrothed husband. What avails a man's piety to the gods, if in all his dealings with men he prove himself a villain ? If we represent Deity as commanding a bad action, this is not exculpating the mau, but criminating the God. The ill chosen subjects of Lucan and Statius have pre- vented them from acquiring the popularity they would otherwise have merited ; yet in detached parts the formei- of these is, perhaps unequalled, certainly unexcelled. The French court honoured the poet of liberty by excluding him from the edition in Usum Delphini ; perhaps, for the same reason, he may hereafter be published in Usum Repiiblicse. I do not scruple to j^refer Statius to Virgil; with inferior taste, he appears to me to possess a richer and more j^owerful imagination ; his images are strongly conceived and clearly painted, and the force of his language, while it makes the reader feel, proves that the author felt limself. The power of story is strikingly examplified in ihe Italian heroic poets. They please universally, even in translations, when little but the story remains. In the proportioning his characters, Tasso has erred : Godfrey is the hero of the poem, Rinaldo of the poet, and Taucred of the reader. Secondary characters should not be intro- duced, like Gyas and Cloanthus, merely to fill a proces- sion ; neither should they be so prominent as to throw the principal into shade. The lawless magic of Ai-iosto, and the singular theme, as well as the singular excellence of Mill on, render it XXU Pr.EFACE. impossible to deduce any rules of epic poetry from these authors. So likewise witli Spenser, the favourite of my childhood, from whose frequent perusal I have always found increased delight. Against the machinery of Camoens,a heavier charge must be brought than that of profaneness or incongruity. His floating island is but a floating brothel, and no beauty can niaka atonement for licentiousness. From this accusation none but a translator would attempt to jiistiry him; but Camoens had the most able of translators. The Jiusiad, though excellent in parts, is uninteresting as a whole : it is read with little emotion, and remembered with little pleasure. But it was composed in the anguish of disap- pointed hopes, in the fatigues of war, and in a country far from all he loved ; and we should not forget, that as the poet of Portugal was among the most unfortunate of men so he should be lanked among the most respectable. Neither his own country or Spain has yet produced his e(]ual : his heart was broken by calamity, but the spirit of integrity and independence never forsook Camoens. I have endeavoured to avoid what appears to me the common fault of epic poems, and to render the Maid of Orleans interesting. With this intent I have given her, not the passion of love, but the remembrance of subdued affection, a lingering of human feelings not inconsistent with the enthusiasm and holiness of her charactei'. The multitude of obscui-e epic writers coj^y with the most gross servility their ancient models. If a tempest occurs, some envious spirit procures it from the god of the winds or the god of the sea : is there a town besieged ? the eyes of the hero are opened, and he beholds the powers of heaven assisting in the attack ; an angel is at hand t